


kitsune no yomeiri

by GhostyKitty



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Rewrite, Romance, but its not gonna be super accurate, children being mean to animals, everything will work out i promise, reader is in a relationship but it's okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28142886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostyKitty/pseuds/GhostyKitty
Summary: you meet a fox on your way home.this is a rewrite of a fic i started summer 2020 of the same name. additional details in the notes.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Reader, Original Male Character/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> hi! so i initially wrote this for camp nanowrimo with minimal planning and it turned out kind of unsatisfying. so i've been rewriting and planning things out. thank you to everyone who supported the original fic, i've deleted it because looking back it's not something i'm super proud of. i did keep screencaps of all the comments because i'm sentimental like that tho. 
> 
> so without further ado, here is the first chapter of the new and improved kitsune no yomeiri. i hope that everyone can enjoy this as much as, if not more, than the original (:

It’s strange. The shrill, incessant noise of cicadas is the first thing you notice. Then you notice how bright the sky is. In fact, it’s almost too bright. No matter where you look in an attempt to divert shield your eyes, the harsh rays of light seem to find a way to shine into them. As a last resort you bring your hands up to cover them to relieve yourself of the sharp pain. Your bare feet ache as they traverse through ticklish grass and stiff ground, guiding you to a place where you can rest. When you peek through your small fingers, you find yourself standing in the shade. 

Greenery surrounds you, embracing you in a canopy of fresh sights and smells. The grass here is no longer prickly and tickly. Rather it’s soft and so plush that it cradles your tired feet. A mossy rock beckons you over, prompting you to take a seat and rest your weary legs. 

Just as you’re about to settle on the rock, a whine pierces through the steady stream of trilling cicadas. You look around, searching for the source of the pitiful sound. Then you spot it, a fox, curled against the large roots of a tree.

It can’t be bigger than the shih tzu that lives across the street. But that pampered thing can’t compare to the sleek looking creature before you. Kneeling down onto your hands and knees, you crawl over to get a closer look. A dark patch of fur catches your eye. Something in your chest tightens when you smell the iron. Your voice emerges small and tense.

“Are you okay Mr. Fox?”

\---

The first thing you can process in your waking moments is the cicadas. Next is the birds. Then comes the trees. No matter how much you claim to hate the cacophonous noises, especially the ear-piercing drone, part of you finds it to be incredibly nostalgic. It brings you back memories of summers that have passed. Exploring and seeking adventure with neighbors, packing a lunch and going on a hike into the local mountains, or searching for treasures among the sandy beaches.

More recently your summers have consisted of bottles and bottles of chilled barley tea, a stack of books and assignments to sort through, and occasionally air conditioned classrooms with monotonous professors. Any time you had left was spent at the convenience store down the street, making just enough to pay rent and buy groceries with a meager amount left to collect in the bank. 

Your eyes crack open only to close immediately with a hiss of pain escaping between your teeth. Silently cursing yourself for not getting thicker or darker curtains, you try your best to shield your eyes from the striking light. Using your free hand, you push yourself to sit up with your back to the window. With sunlight this intense there’s no point in trying to sleep in at all. 

The feeling of empty sheets and an empty bed sends chills up your arm. They run through your entire body, making you pull your own sheet that’s still radiating body heat closer. You take a deep breath in and sigh, wondering if an empty bed is what you’ll be waking up to for the rest of your life. 

You shake your head rapidly and gently smack your cheeks in an attempt to dissipate those negative thoughts. Suzuki has worked hard to be where he is today. He’s spent far too many nights sleepless and stressed for this kind of negativity to rest on his shoulders. Thoughts like this will only bring both of you down. You inhale deeply once more, this time a bit startled when the warm, toasty smell of freshly brewed coffee meets your senses. Hope swells in your chest as you scramble to climb out of bed as quickly as possible. Maybe you’ll be able to catch him this time.

What greets you in the kitchen is a surprise. Suzuki, already dressed in his scrubs, is standing in front of the stove guarding a kettle of water. A fresh pot of coffee sits on the counter along with a plate of fried, sunny side up eggs. Being able to see him this late in the morning is a treat you’d certainly be savoring. 

The floor squeaks underneath you, alerting your boyfriend to your presence. He greets you with a tired smile, “Morning babe.” 

“Morning,” you say, fighting back a yawn. “Are you gonna be working late tonight?”

“Yeah,” Suzuki replies with a sigh. His slumped shoulders speak of a long day that has yet to happen. 

“Will you be able to make it to dinner tonight?” you ask as you pour yourself a mug of coffee. Suzuki groans and wraps his arms around your shoulders, burying his nose into your hair. 

“I don’t know,” he grumbles. “I’ll definitely call to let you know if I can’t. No use in making you wait for me if I know I’m not going to make it.”

You reach around and try to pat his head, gently raking your fingers through his brown hair. “It’s alright. You’re out there doing what you love, saving lives, I couldn’t be more proud of you.” Suzuki presses a kiss into the top of your head before settling his cheek against your crown.

Time seems to stop while the two of you are here. His warm presence at your back seeps into every crevice of your body. It washes away any and all worries that you have. Right now, it’s just the two of you. No classes to attend, no patients to check on, no papers to complete, no bills to pay... You let yourself lean into his embrace, tilting your head back just a little more.

Then the kettle on the stove begins to whistle.

\---

At your seat by one of the open windows of the lecture hall, you find yourself unable to focus on any of the words coming out of the professor’s mouth. The summer heat is especially dense today, clogging your lungs and making sweat condense on your skin. The hard plastic chair feels much more uncomfortable than usual. A yawn rises up in your chest, but you push down on it. Tears gather at the corners of your eyes. Your view of the blackboard blurs and the professor’s droning voice dims, but the cry of the cicadas still rings loud and clear. A passing breeze tugs at the page of your notebook. 

You resort to just copying down what’s being written on the blackboard. Yet, even with your best efforts, your mind is pulled outside with the cicadas. Something about the sound nags at you, forcing you to relive past summers. Nothing stands out to you, other than days filled with childhood innocence and curiosity. Your lower back tingles. Something is missing from your library of memories, but you just can’t seem to pick out what exactly it is.

Suddenly, a finger is jabbed into your waist and you’re jolted out of the recesses of your mind.

“Class is over and you’re not already out the door, are you doing okay?” You turn to see Konoha Akinori, your one friend in this class. His sharp eyes analyze your tense posture. “You were out of it for most of class.” A sigh exits your nose. 

“I,” you pause, trying to think of a way to express the strange feelings bubbling in your chest. “I might have caught a summer cold or something.”

Konoha’s brow ticks up as his expression of concern morphs into one of confusion. “Did you sleep with the window open? Or maybe with your stomach uncovered?” You hum, letting your head tilt back and forth.

“The window was open, but…” you’re interrupted by slender fingers pressing against your forehead.

“You don’t seem to have a fever,” Konoha muses with furrowed brows.. You swat him away with a grumble. 

“I’m fine, I just can’t seem to concentrate today,” you say, closing up your notebook and gathering your belongings.

“Well, if things ever get worse your boyfriend is a doctor-”

“That would be a conflict of interest, and I’m not gonna bother him over a small cold,” you sharply interrupt. 

“Hey,” Konoha puts his hands up sheepishly, “it was just a thought.” With one last glare, you huff and begin to shove everything into your bag. “This was your last class right?” 

You hum in affirmation and stand up to begin the walk home. “I do have a shift at the convenience store after this though.” 

“Are you gonna be free over the weekend?” he asks. 

“I should be, unless someone calls in sick at work and they want me to go in,” you reply. Konoha hums, pushing his dirty blond hair out of his face.

“Wanna meet up to get that assignment out of the way?” 

“Yeah, sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you thought by leaving a comment or come chat with me on [tumblr!](https://catharsisbabey.tumblr.com/)


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you get a bit of a work out.

Your shift at the store passes in a haze. Despite the air conditioning running at maximum strength, your skin still feels clammy. The smooth, lightweight polyester fabric of your work uniform feels strangely scratchy against your skin. The collar seems to constrict around your neck. Actually, the shirt as a whole seems to stick tighter to your body and weigh you down much more than usual. 

With a sigh, you step out into the evening air, taking in the sounds of the street. Or, at least you try to. The piercing cry of the cicadas is just too overwhelming. It makes your head throb.

You click your tongue, roll your shoulders back, and take your first steps towards home. Once you get inside your apartment, the windows are closing and the music is going on full blast. Otherwise this incessant crepitation is going to drive you crazy. 

When you turn the corner onto the street your building occupies, a new sound greets you. It’s a sound that takes you back a few years, pulling you into a nostalgic trance. Then you’re pulled out.

“Ah, Hayato you killed it!” 

“No I didn’t!”

The shouts and cries of children slices through the thick summer air, cutting through the veil of existing sound to reach you. Their panicked voices alarms you, waking your legs up as you propel yourself to the empty lot just up ahead where children living in the surrounding neighborhood are known to play. 

What greets you is a sight that has your heart clenching in your chest.. 

Lying in a corner of the lot surrounded by several snot nosed kids, is a lump. It’s quite large, maybe two and a half, even three feet long. From where you stand, you can barely even make out what it is. A few, hesitant steps forward grant you a clearer view of the poor creature, however you can still only see that its body is caked with mud. 

The children poke and prod at the body with sticks, even throwing rocks at it. You flinch when one of them delivers a particularly strong kick. Your nose crinkles into a snarl with disgust. Children can be so cruel sometimes.

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and yell, “Just what do you think you’re doing?” The children whip their heads around, and scatter like rats after seeing the fury painted on your face. 

With the children out of the way, you quickly make your way to the side of the pained animal. Beneath all the matted fur, you can’t really tell what it is. A high pitched whine emerges from the pained animal as it writhes in pain, struggling to get up only to give up and flop back onto the ground. The change in its position has given you a better view of its body. Definitely injured, given the splotches of blood decorating its side. Your eyes survey the rest of its body, taking note of the long snout and tail. The tall ears are what seals the deal. And it is most certainly a male. 

Slowly you begin to inch closer, stopping when a growl emerges from his throat. “I’m not gonna hurt you or anything, I’m just here to help, okay?” you say. You reach over, letting your hand linger near his nose. His eyes open just a bit as his nose twitches, revealing striking gold irises. “It’s alright Mr. Fox, you’re gonna be alright,” you murmur, keeping your voice as steady as possible. “You wouldn't mind if I picked you up right?” 

The fox huffs lightly before closing his eyes, almost as if he was saying, “Do whatever you want.” 

“Okay, cool,” you open your bag up and pull out a spare work shirt. The bright white fabric has you hesitating for a moment, but you can probably just bleach out any stains, right? It’s the only thing you have on hand that could be used for this purpose. 

Draping the clean polyester garment over the body of the fox, you do your best to wrap him up and secure the long limbs into some kind of burrito. The fox’s ears flicker as you work, and he grunts in irritation when your hand brushes by an especially sore spot. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I’m almost done, just a little more, okay?” 

The fox whines. 

“My apartment is super close, we’ll be there in a jiffy,” you murmur.

With the fox wrapped up, you take a deep breath and lift him up. A wheeze makes its way out of your lungs. This fox is much, much heavier than it appears. Despite your nearly empty lungs, you continue to mutter calming words, but it’s not like the fox can really understand them. Rising onto shaky legs, it dawns on you just how much adrenaline was running through your system earlier. One deep breath in later, you’re trying your best to power walk the remaining twenty-some meters to your apartment building while praying the landlady is away. 

You cheer internally when the small apartment building comes into view. A second wind of energy goes to your legs, boosting your pace just a little. You were so close! 

Then someone is calling your name from behind. Curses fly out of your mouth as you recognize the voice to be your landlady, Kusakabe-san. Maybe you should have prayed that she was at home instead. But it’s too late and there’s no mistaking that woman’s characteristic yell. While she’s quite kind, she shows a little too much interest in gossip for your comfort. Picking up your pace a bit more, you do your best to pretend you didn’t hear her. 

However, old ladies who like to gossip do not simply give up when the target of their attention does not appear to notice them. No, they walk faster and raise their voices so that whoever they’re calling out to has no choice but to turn and acknowledge them. You’ve fallen for this tactic one too many times while living here. While Kusakabe-san is a very nice lady, her weekly updates about the local rumor mill has you convinced that she’s running some kind of underground information ring. 

Her voice draws nearer, so you ignore the burn that’s growing in your legs and pick up the pace a bit more. Because no matter how kind and understanding Kusakabe-san is, she’s still a landlady and incredibly strict about pets in her building. There’s no telling how she’d react to a wild animal when the only pets she allows are those that can be kept in tanks. 

You manage to round the corner and reach the stairs in record time. You ascend, taking the steps two at a time, pushing your body to go as quick as possible. The fox whines at the increased movement. Whispering apologies to him, you tighten your hold as you try your best to keep him steady. At least when you’re on the second level, Kusakabe-san is much less likely to catch you. With a pounding heart and heaving lungs, you manage to unlock the door to your apartment and get inside before the old lady can even get past the drab concrete wall that surrounds the building. 

As gingerly as possible with shaking arms, you place the fox down before toeing your shoes off and collapsing next to him. Bright eyes flutter open and glance over at your figure sprawled out on the floor. “I’ll clean you up in a minute,” you gasp out between breaths. “Just give me a minute to catch my breath. I haven’t moved that much in forever.”

The fox huffs and closes his eyes once more. 

Seconds seem to crawl by as your breath returns to normal and the burning sensation in your legs fades. Your heart rate steadily decreases as well. Even though your arms are feeling like cooked noodles, you use them to push yourself off the ground. Crawling over to the fox, you pick it up and stand, ready to bring it into the bathroom.

Then your phone starts to ring.

A groan of frustration leaves your lips, and for a moment you contemplate placing the fox back down. However, an irritated grunt from the injured animal has you rushing to the bathroom to leave him in the tub, hoping that whoever is calling won’t be too bothered by a delayed pick up. 

In your rush to pick up the ringing cell phone, you trip over the one inch threshold separating the bathroom tile from the laminate flooring. Pain blooms in your cheek and arms as you crash into the ground. For a moment the only thing you can see is white, and the only thing you can hear is a high pitched ringing that drowns out even your cell phone. Tears well up in your eyes but you blink them back, refusing to let them fall. 

After what feels like an eternity later, the pain fades to a bearable amount and the ringing in your ears ceases just in time to register the tail end of your cell phone’s ringtone. Ignoring your throbbing cheek and arms, you scramble to dig it out of your bag just in the nick of time. 

“Hello?” your voice wavers a little as you accidentally put a little too much pressure on your arm.

“Hey babe,” Suzuki’s tired voice greets you. “Are you okay? Your voice sounds a little weird.”

“I’m fine, work was just really busy today,” you grumble, trying your best to cover whatever pain is slipping through your words with irritation. 

“Ah,” your boyfriend replies in an understanding tone. You can almost see him bobbing his head up and down with a knowing smile. 

“Has your day been okay? You said you were gonna be swamped with work this morning,” you ask.

“Yeah, everything has been a bit tight. And, about dinner,” Suzuki’s sheepish hesitation tells you everything you need to know, “I won’t be going home for dinner. Another colleague got published, and we’re all going out to celebrate tonight.” 

“Ah, I see,” you reply, perhaps a little too morose. You compensate by forcing a bit of energy to your next sentence. “Tell them congratulations for me!” 

“I will,” Suzuki seems to be relieved after hearing your answer. The weight in his voice has dissipated. “You should treat yourself to something good tonight too,” he suggests.

“I might order some fancy delivery then,” you muse. “I think I’ve saved enough to splurge a little.” 

“How about I-” 

Suzuki is interrupted by a loud beeping. It’s his pager. “I’m so sorry babe I gotta go. I promise I’ll make it up to you!” 

“It’s alright, you’re just doing your job,” you say with a smile. “Now shoo! Go and save a life!”

You can hear him chuckle before hanging up. 

Without his presence distracting you, the pain in your cheek and arm seems to return full force. You huff and stand up, doing your best to ignore it. There’s a fox burrito in your bathtub and you have a first aid kit to unearth.


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tl;dr school sucks, burnout hit me like a truck, but part three is finally done!  
> next chapter shouldn't take too long because it's all outlined and stuff (watch me eat my words like a month later lmao)

The hum of the washing machine is gentle against your skin as you lean against it, silently praying that the ferrous, muddy stains would wash out of your work uniform along with the various other linens you had to use. Thinking back on it now, you probably could have used just a tad less bleach, but it’s not like you threw Suzuki’s scrubs in here too.

Taking in a deep breath, you rise from your curled position near the working machine, reaching your arms up to stretch out sore muscles. There’s no point in waiting here for the cycle to finish. Wandering out into the living room, you glance over at the fox. He’s resting in the far corner of the room by the glass balcony door, nestled between the boxy entertainment system and wall. A small pile of old towels on top of an old seat cushion form a makeshift bed for the fatigued creature. 

With the quietest steps you are able to muster, you slowly make your way over to the resting animal. Under the soft, warm glow of the ceiling light, his coat seems to be illuminated. Lustrous gold shimmers as he breathes, yet there’s a stillness to the creature. He might as well have been painstakingly handcrafted by a god with gossamer thin strands of light and shadow.

The twilight air is warm, but not enough to warrant turning the air conditioner on. Your bank account would probably cry if you did. Without a second thought, you push a window open. A crow flies by, the last rays of sunshine reflecting off it’s glossy feathers.

You flop down on the couch and let the events of the day filter through your mind. It feels like there hasn’t been a chance for you to truly process everything that happened between school and work. There’s an assignment you’re meeting with Konoha to do over the weekend, Suzuki isn’t coming home for dinner, and you brought an injured fox home, cleaned him up, and bandaged his wounds. 

That last one certainly sticks out like a sore thumb, doesn’t it? 

You take another deep breath in and peer at the animal resting in the corner. Clarity hits you like a truck. It’s almost like you’ve been dreaming the entire day and only just woke up. The beginnings of a cry push against your chest, wishing to be freed from your rib cage. But you hold it back. 

Or rather, you hurry into your room and, after gingerly closing the door behind you, bury your face into a pillow before screaming. The thick cushion of polyester usually does an adequate job of muffling your cries, however it seems that it isn’t enough to hide them from the fox. 

Clicks and scratches sound from beyond the closed door. You flip onto your back, clutching the pillow in your arms.

“Why did I do this?” you ask yourself. “Why did I do any of this?” You could have easily called the local animal control or something and they could have taken much better care of the fox. They would be infinitely better than you and your last brain cell that’s for sure. But why didn’t you? 

Scrunching your face up, you try your best to think back to that moment. Surely there has to be a reason why you acted so rashly. It’s not like you can blame all of your actions on the adrenaline. Or can you?

The scratching at the door persists and grows in frequency. A plaintive whine joins the dry noises. 

You groan and curl up onto your side. Crushing the pillow in your arms and pushing your face into it, you start to wish you could just be an ostrich for a minute. 

The scratching stops. 

Your body relaxes. 

Then the barking begins. 

The strange, harsh noise grates against your ears and has you scrambling out of bed to fling open the door. “No!” you scold, pointing a finger between the fox’s golden brown eyes. “You can’t do that or the neighbors will hear and complain and then they’ll get the landlady and we’ll both be in the deepest shit of our lives!”

Immediately, as if he could comprehend the urgency in your voice, the fox stops. Then he slowly turns around, looks up at you from the corner of his eye almost expectantly, and gracefully struts over to your dinner table. 

The absurdity of this whole situation is starting to get to you, and the desire to just take a bath and go to bed is creeping into your legs. You want to crinkle your nose at the animal and proceed to follow your legs’ dreams, but your stomach is protesting just as much. 

The fox looks at you pointedly when the gurgling reaches his ears. The corners of his lips curl up into a mocking grin, and your nose wrinkles in return. You never knew an animal could look this smug. 

A slight throbbing is beginning to knock on your head. You turn away and gently massage your temples. This is going to be a monster headache. 

\---

You ended up spending more time looking up what foxes could eat than doing any real food preparation. 

The chicken thigh you wanted to use for dinner tonight wound up on a plate. You even sliced it into smaller pieces so the fox would have an easier time eating. Cooking it was out of the question considering how late it was, and the internet said raw was better anyway. 

For yourself, you settled with some reheated soup leftover from last night with an egg added for protein, and rice stuffed into some fried tofu pockets to form a couple inarizushi. Simple, but filling. 

When you walk out from the narrow, C-shaped kitchen to the dining table, the fox is curled on the floor between the legs of one of the chairs. His dark ears swivel in response to your footsteps passing by, despite your efforts to be as discreet as possible. Setting the plate of chicken down near the animal prompts him to open his eyes. He leans forward a bit and gazes at the cubes of meat. 

He blinks once. 

Twice. 

Then closes his eyes and lowers his head again. You click your tongue in disbelief. He’s the one who was pestering you for food but he didn’t even bother to sniff at it! With a huff you dig into your own dinner, content with the mild flavors on your tongue. It’s a perfect fit with the cool summer breeze drifting in from the window. You can clean up the chicken after. Your stomach has been waiting far too long for this.

When you go to pick up the last of the inarizushi, your fingers slip. The little package of rice wrapped in fried tofu tumbles to the floor and you reach down to pick it up. Nothing a short rinse with water wouldn’t fix. 

However, before you can even lean down to grab it, a long, furry snout quickly snatches it up. Then it’s gone in the blink of an eye. 

Tears blur your vision. 

The last of your precious inarizushi, gone just like that. You look at the fox. He’s just sitting there, licking his lips and cleaning his face with a satisfied expression. You glance at the plate on the ground. It’s still covered edge to edge with the raw chicken thigh. 

Sadness morphs into indignation and the tears retreat. Your fingers tighten into a fist as you struggle to process what happened. First, you brought an injured fox home, cleaned him up, and treated his wounds. Second, you provided the fox with a relatively adequate place to rest. Third, after he pestered you for food, you fed him what the internet said he would like: chicken. 

And apparently all these good deeds have amounted to nothing in his tiny brain, because he just ate your last inarizushi.

You unclench your hands and tilt your head up to look at the ceiling and breathe out the deepest sigh of the day. A hand drifts up to massage the bridge of your nose. The temptation to just leave the dishes in the sink and head straight to bed is growing ever prominent as seconds tick by. But it’s summer, and you can’t just leave the chicken out. Could you even keep it at this point? It’s not like the fox touched it at all. That’s a problem all on its own now that you’re really considering it.

A whine breaks you out of your thoughts. 

You glance down at the fox out of the corner of your eye. He’s sitting near your chair with his tail curled neatly around his paws, eyes wide, and ears lowered. Your irritation dissipates a little. Can foxes feel guilty? Are they like the huskies online that know when they’ve done something wrong? 

Sitting up with a tired smile, you look down at the golden brown eyes that are asking for forgiveness. “I guess I should make more, huh?” 

Immediately the fox’s ears point straight up and his tail begins thumping against the ground in excitement. It’s impossible for you to stay mad at animals. 

\---

Taking the time to enjoy a hot bath was the best decision you’ve made today. Something about washing away all the sweat and grime of the day seemed to cleanse your very soul. The fox was also curled up in his corner, satisfied after eating the extra inarizushi you prepared. 

Padding into your room, you gently close the door behind you before jumping into bed. You bury your head into your pillow and take a deep breath in. With the cocoon of soft, comforting fabric resting against your skin and familiar scents surrounding you, a weight is lifted off your chest. Sure, you might be the only one in bed tonight but over time you’ve learned to enjoy the extra room to sprawl across the mattress. Especially in the summer.

You flip onto your back and look up at the ceiling. Or, at least you try to. Lifting a hand up, you point your palm at the moon to block out some of the light shining into your room and your eyes. Seems like it’s particularly bright tonight. You swing your legs over the side of the bed and shuffle over to the window. A gentle breeze flows in when you push it open. 

You take a moment to breathe it all in.

The cooling night air, the chilling moonlight, the silence. 

Then it hits you.

When did the cicadas stop?

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you thought by leaving a comment or come chat with me on [tumblr!](https://catharsisbabey.tumblr.com/)


End file.
